The Reborn Noble Girl is Hard to Find | Chapter 45: A Sinister Provocation
Chapter 45: A Sinister Provocation
With her measured tone, Han Yan’s remark hit Zhuang Yushan like a blunt blade. Her face flushed pale and red in turn, finally settling on a strained, resentful smile. “As long as Fourth Sister is unharmed, it’s fine,” she said through gritted teeth, retreating to Li Jiaqi’s side without another word about fetching a doctor.
Han Yan watched Li Jiaqi’s triumphant expression from the corner of her eye and instantly understood—it was all planned. Zhuang Yushan had even gone so far as to use Deng Chan against her. The realization chilled Han Yan to the core.
Though she had recognized the setup, if given another chance, she would still shield Deng Chan from harm. Deng Chan was someone she cherished, and Han Yan was determined to protect the people she valued in this lifetime, ensuring they would not suffer the same bitter loneliness that she once endured. Despite the pain, she felt a sliver of relief; better her than Deng Chan.
The burning sensation on her hand was sharp and relentless. Deng Chan wanted to summon a doctor, but Han Yan discreetly shook her head, knowing such incidents were taboo at royal banquets. Still, she reassured Deng Chan with a few gentle words until her friend calmed down.
Once Deng Chan settled, Han Yan finally allowed herself a moment to inspect her hand. Her right hand, from the back to the wrist, was an angry red, with tender skin already blistering. Even brushing against fabric caused searing pain. Zhuang Yushan had shown no mercy—dumping scalding tea like that could have caused a scene if not for Han Yan’s ingrained composure, hardened by the trials of her past life.
Fortunately, their table’s incident went unnoticed amidst the grand festivities. The emperor, still basking in delight from Yun Ni County Princess’s dazzling victory dance, was now in a jovial mood. “Ladies, no need for shyness,” he announced. “If any of you have talents to display, step forward boldly. There shall be great rewards for those who impress me!”
Li Jiaqi straightened her back imperceptibly, her neck arching like a swan’s. Clad in elegance and sipping from her cup, she resembled the epitome of grace. Onlookers might have thought her a transcendent beauty, untouchable in her serene confidence.
By contrast, Zhuang Yushan’s eager gaze fixated on the emperor, her ambition almost palpable. Yet no one dared volunteer immediately; the gathered noblewomen hesitated to step into the limelight first, wary of seeming too eager.
Breaking the silence, a voice suddenly rang out, clear and deferential: “This prince has heard that the eldest daughter of the Chancellor’s household, Lady Li, is celebrated as the foremost talent of the capital. Her brilliance is the talk of the city. Might we have the honor of witnessing Lady Li’s extraordinary talents tonight?”
The attendees turned to locate the speaker—it was the Seventh Prince. His tone carried no haughtiness, only sincerity. The noble ladies found themselves warming to him.
The emperor chuckled. “Indeed, I’ve heard much of Lady Li’s reputation. Lady Li, why not grace us with a performance?”
Li Jiaqi rose gracefully, stepping into the center of the hall. She curtsied deeply, her voice sweet and demure: “Your Majesty, your servant is unworthy of such praise. Nevertheless, for the joy of this occasion, I humbly present my modest skills.”
Her poised humility impressed the audience. A maidservant quickly brought forth a black lacquered zither, its design intricate and antique. It seemed Li Jiaqi had prepared well for this moment.
Han Yan’s lips curled into a faint sneer. The scheming behind today’s events couldn’t be more apparent. Her glance at her scalded hand only confirmed that Li Jiaqi had meticulously orchestrated everything to eliminate potential competition.
Seated before the instrument, Li Jiaqi washed her hands in scented water with meticulous elegance. Even Han Yan had to acknowledge her poise—a testament to the rigorous training befitting the Chancellor’s daughter. When Li Jiaqi finally began plucking the strings, the hall fell utterly silent.
She chose “Lazy Painted Eyebrows”, a melodic piece renowned for its nuanced transitions and technical demands. Her fingers danced across the strings effortlessly, each note crisp and fluid. The melody painted a vivid picture of a tranquil moonlit night, a solitary maiden pouring her soul into her music. The combination of her beauty, skill, and composure captivated the audience.
Han Yan listened intently. Li Jiaqi’s mastery was genuine, honed through years of dedication. The complex interplay of finger techniques and tonal shifts required for this piece didn’t trouble her in the slightest. Her performance, serene yet powerful, was an elegant contrast to Yun Ni’s vibrant dance, a balm of tranquility after the earlier storm.
Deng Chan leaned over to whisper, “She’s good. But if you were to perform, you’d outshine her easily.”
Han Yan shook her head with a faint smile. “My skills are far inferior to hers.”
This wasn’t false humility. Han Yan had once been an exceptional zither player, her talent nurtured by her late mother. But she hadn’t touched a zither in years. After her mother’s death, grief had driven her to burn her favorite instrument. The loss, compounded by time, had dulled her abilities.
Deng Chan pouted, unconvinced. “You’re just too modest.”
Han Yan didn’t argue, her gaze drifting toward Zhuang Yushan. The latter’s smirk betrayed her satisfaction—she had undoubtedly fed Li Jiaqi details of Han Yan’s past skill to ensure her absence tonight. Yet Han Yan felt only indifference. She had no intention of competing.
However, she couldn’t help pondering Li Jiaqi’s actions. While her tactics today seemed crude, Han Yan doubted someone as proud as the Chancellor’s daughter would normally stoop so low. Could she have other motives?
Meanwhile, Li Jiaqi basked in the admiring gazes of the audience, her confidence soaring. But in her heart, she yearned for a specific reaction. Was he watching? Was he impressed?
